Smile
by Evil Towel
Summary: It was an accident... but that's not a good enough excuse for anything, is it? Naruto loses his control, loses his friends, loses his everything. With it all gone, he must find a reason to smile again. Is it even possible? Maybe... and maybe not.


A/N: Arashi here, and WOW! I can't believe I've finally posted it! I wrote this well over five months ago, before I even knew who Shikamaru was because I hadn't read past the Zabuza/Haku arc. That was a LONG time ago! So after reading the manga, I found this old half-finished deathfic in a notebook, and decided to merge it into the plotline. So I started writing an ending to it, but it ended in totally the opposite direction! Argh! And then when I was typing it up, it ended up even different-er direction! ARGH! But after two months of personal revision, an hour with Niyali-chan, my beta (clap for her! YAAAAY!!), and a little support from SnoOza, it's done! 

**Title:** Smile  
**Genre:** Angst  
**Rating:** R  
**Spoilers:** Read up to chapter 228 of the manga, please!  
**Warnings:** Deathfic, blood, gore, slight yaoi (SasuNaru)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Naruto, Inane's translation of the manga (from which the quote came), or the song _Nowhere Kids_ by Smile Empty Soul. Dangit... I've gotta get me a brainwashing machine...

And as for the readers, don't report me. I give you more than fair warning for all violence, blood, and gore found in this fic.

-:-:-

Smile

-:-:-

_**We are the people that you hate  
We are the bastards that you created  
A generation with no place  
A generation of all your sons and your daughters...**_

-:-:-

It is rainy, is all he knows. Hot rain, like tears, slides down his arms, mingling with salty sweat. He had worked for days in the humidity, digging in the wet slippery mud with an old borrowed shovel, digging a hole to fit a hundred corpses. The hole doesn't seem to want to stay dug-the edges keep falling in to fill it up again. But he keeps digging.

Their eyes are open, is all he sees. Never closing, ever restless, the faded black eyes of the dead watch as he digs and sweats; all for them. They can't--_won't_--praise him for his efforts. They will merely watch. Dead. But he keeps digging.

He is crying, is all he feels. Cold tears of ice, so strange to one so warm as he, drip lifelessly from eyes that once smiled, fall into the mud he digs through, twinkling like crystals of misery, lost in the rain. But he keeps digging.

Vultures screeching, is all he hears. They want their prey. Corpses, dead and rotting, eyes dull and begging to be ripped to pieces by these birds of death, these carrion filth, messengers of Hell. They circle overhead, screaming hellish words. But he keeps digging.

It was bloody, is all he smells. Each corpse has its own death wound, and the blood of each lingers on his muddy hands. He is lost in it, drowning in a sea of bitter metallic death. It's in his hair and on his face and his hands under his nails because he _killed_ them oh god they're all dead and it's all _his_ fault...

Shovel slips out of slippery muddy wet _bloody_ hands so he can fall to his knees and retch, cough, hack up blood their blood his own blood. Not sure which but please let it be his own not theirs...

He owes them this. Let the messengers of Hell, the carrion birds, have their fill of the others on the earth, but these are his people and he owes them all he has. So the grave must be dug in the mud, with his blood and sweat and tears soaking into cold flesh, and the Hell-borne ghosts chanting in his ear your fault your fault _YOUR FAULT._

The grave is finally dug, and even if it is his fault it's okay now. He is _worthless_, they have told him, he is a _monster_. He used to think they were wrong, but they were right and still are. He knows. He's the lowest of the low, the worst of the worst, and the blood under his nails and on his face and the faded black eyes of the dead are just proof to the fact. He can't stop now, because the grave is dug.

And he piles the bodies inside with their bloodstains and faded black eyes that tell him without words of his betrayal, but it's okay. Because the grave is dug.

And on top of the bodies, with their accusations and their hate, are four with only shock and betrayal and surprise. The four he needed the most. And tears are flooding his face, and his clothes are soaked from the hot rain so the blood is starting to run out in boiling, hot red rivers of death, leaving everything more clean. And the mud is stained red, but he is looking into those faded dead black eyes and can't find it in himself to care.

Kakashi. Sensei, mentor...while annoying at times, Kakashi had been important to him. The jounin had helped him so far along the path to his goal, a friend, in a strange sort of way.

Iruka. Older brother, teacher...whenever Naruto had needed someone, Iruka was there. Treating him to ramen at Ichiraku, supporting him, being the family that the young boy never had.

Sakura. Secret crush, teammate... he didn't think that Sakura liked him the way he did her, but he knew they were friends. Whether yelling at him or yelling with him, he had trusted her, and knew that she had trusted him back.

And Sasuke. Rival, bastard, thinks-he's-so-smart...Naruto hadn't been quite sure what he thought of Sasuke. Incessant taunts and being shown up all those times had made him hate the dark boy, but there were still times when he felt like smiling around him.

Naruto tries to put on his smiling face...

But he feels it shatter before he even picks it up.

Kakashi's hitai-ate headband covering his Sharingan eye lay in the jounin's loose grip, cut in two right through the Konoha symbol, his already blood-red iris slit along the same path as the vertical scar, bathing it further in scarlet. No more copying ninjutsu. Ever again.

Four gashes run parallel to the scar crossing Iruka's face, eyes still wide with confusion and mouth still open to ask what in the Hokage's name was going on. No more teaching at the Academy. Ever again.

Blood from a cutting scalp wound tints Sakura's pink hair pinker as it runs in the rain. Like the cherry blossom tree that soaks up blood from corpses in the soil to taint and color its beautiful flowers, so too is Sakura tainted with the water of the river of death. A rivulet of that red river runs past her eyes... beautiful green eyes. Sea green and full to the brim with nothing but shock, sea green so pretty against the pink and red. Yet in death, the green looks so... faded. Black. Dead. The eyes will never see anything but her grave. No more gazing at Sasuke. Ever again.

And of course, Sasuke himself. Naruto recalls his death vaguely... he'd gone down fighting. It all rushes back now. Sasuke had been the first to die.

He was the reason Naruto had lost control.

-:-:-

_Sasuke betrayed us. He ran away from himself. Why? For... power?_

Tears fell freely from cheeks marred by thick black whisker marks as he remembered. He remembered all the good things in life, and remembered why Sasuke mattered so much. Was that love? If so...

_I love..._

Tears fell freely as he cried, "Even if I have to break the bones in your arms and legs, I will stop you! Sasuke!! You won't go to Orochimaru!" Was that love? If so...

_I love..._

Naruto wouldn't let him go! It would mean losing too much! That first glance on the pier, first scowl, first rival... friends even though neither knew it. Was that love? If so...

_I love..._

Tears fell freely.

...you?

His chest stung as his lung healed at blinding speed, right arm fully functional and ready to fight.

_At the very least, I can't let you go..._

A rush of chakra so strong, red, dark... his head spun as the transformation continued on its primal trek.

**POWER**, Kyuubi said, smirking.

And with longer nails, sharper teeth, and a feral air, Naruto fought. And he would fight.

**TO THE DEATH.**

He was winning. Sasuke was clearly frantic. His chakra control was slipping, something in Naruto noted idly. Every now and then Sasuke's foot would half-slip under the water. When they reached the cliff face, Sasuke turned tail and jumped up it, fear and survival instincts keeping him from realizing that it was the Konoha side of the water.

He was pushing Sasuke back to Konoha.

_I can't let you go..._

Sasuke ran. Naruto followed.

A chase. It was a chase.

**HUNT.**

And then Kyuubi took control. Any lingering humanity in that half-feral mind was banished to a far corner, nine ghostly tails weaving behind him as "Naruto" loomed over the dark boy.

Sharingan long gone--power banished by utter terror.

_What's going on?! Let me OUT!! I can't let him go!! I have to get him back to Konoha!_

**Can't let him go. Don't worry little human, I'll get him to your little 'Konoha'. **

And when I do...

Well, then the fun will begin.

_But... Sasuke..._

And the tears fell freely.

-:-:-

It had been a slaughter. After the first hour or so of silent killings while victims slept, the village had awoken. People running... screaming... bleeding... dying...

Perhaps if Jiraiya had been there then someone would be saved. Not even Tsunade had lived... There she was, in the enormous grave.

Near the top of the pile, facing the Hokage mountain. Her youthful appearance was gone, dispelled in death...lines framed her mouth and eyes. Her hair was graying at the temples. One hand was to her throat, trying to stop the blood flow where Naruto had stabbed through with one clawed hand, tearing windpipe and esophagus, not to mention countless veins and arteries. Her other hand was in a complicated hand seal that Naruto didn't know. Probably to attack him and save the village.

If only that was what had happened...

But it was best not to dwell on what could have been. He _had_ killed everyone, and he was going to give them a proper burial, as they deserved.

One last glance at Sasuke--(red red blood stark against pale skin, clear rain sliding sensually down the pair of kunai buried in his throat and gut, mingling with that bitter crimson death)--and he begins filling the enormous hole with dirt. Covers the _grave_, the _memories_, so no trace is left but the smoking ruin of his home and the blood he can still feel on his hands.

And finally the grave is finished. He scratches on a rock with his one _clean_ kunai in messy hiragana:

_The Citizens of Konoha  
The People Hidden in the Leaves_

Somehow that doesn't seem to fit, and he hates that he never thought of anything to put on the grave marker. He flips the flat rock over and begins to start afresh.

But before kunai hits stone, the wet fabric of his forehead protector slides down over Naruto's eyes. Impatient with everything, he snatches the offending object off his face and pulls back to throw it as far as he can.

But he remembers that time, with Iruka in the morning sunlight, when he became a ninja. His first dream come true.

Naruto can't throw away his dreams.

So he looks at the glinting steel, and the emblem imprinted in it. He ties his hitai-ate back around his head, almost reverently, and fingers pick up his kunai, and he scratches it along the rock deeply.

A counterclockwise swirl...

A point...

And a stem.

Yes, this is the only thing that deserves to be on the grave marker of such people. The only thing that deserves to be on the grave of people so willing to protect everything they loved. What deserves to be on their grave can't be said in words, so he makes do with a symbol.

_Their_ symbol.

A symbol that to Naruto means protection, courage, and determination. A symbol that means hope, strength, and the will to continue on. A symbol to smile in the face of hardship. A symbol that is his dream come true.

And though his dream has been shattered, Naruto continues to have hope. He will be strong. Strong enough for his will to continue on. Strong enough to put his smile back onto his tired face and wear it proudly. Strong enough for his will to carry him through his darkness.

He will wait for the others to come back. The ninja that had been on missions were still alive, though their numbers were small. The others who were with him on the mission to return Sasuke--they were alive too! Shikamaru, Chouji, Kiba, Neji, Lee. Together, they would be able to start over, holding memories safe within their hearts.

But the question is...

_Do I want to face them after what I've done?_

And the answer is no.

_I don't want to face them._

And the kunai he holds in his hand beckons to him. Calling to his flesh, _use me, use me. Use me on yourself like you did to your victims. You don't deserve your life after you've taken so many of theirs..._

It is a tempting offer.

Oh, so tempting.

And Naruto has never been able to resist temptation.

But today he has grown.

_I don't want to face them... _

But it's not about what I want anymore.

I have to face them.

It's my duty as a ninja, and I will see it done!

I won't run away from myself like Sasuke did.

The kunai is tossed smoothly across the clearing to bury itself point first in the branch of a dark cypress tree. Naruto walks away with strength. He has never let his cowardice take control of him before, and now is as bad a time as any to start, no matter how broken his smile.

He will live on.

For them.

Perhaps someday he will be able to pick up the pieces of his dreams and put them back together like a puzzle. It will be hard, and it will take time. His dream, his smile, his mask, all in as many pieces as there are stars in the sky. Naruto has never been good at puzzles, and he knows that it will be difficult, but he will not run away. He will work forever, if only to feel the life return to his tired eyes. If only to redeem himself.

So he leaves the covered and marked grave to wait for the mission's return, musing on putting stars together like a puzzle to form a dream and a smile. He leaves the blood, the dirt stained red. He leaves the carrion birds wheeling above. He leaves. And only the faded black eyes of the dead see him go.

-:-:-

_**And what did you expect?  
A perfect child  
Raised by TV sets  
Abandoned every mile  
Never get respect  
Never a fair trial  
No one gives a shit  
As long as we smile... **_

Smile...

Smile...


End file.
